The happy moment has arrived:  “Ho, boys!” is sounded,-the doors open, the negroes stop their antics and their jargon; stores are exposed, and with one dinning mutter all press into a half-circle at the doors, in one of which stands the huge figure of Balam, the head driver.  He gives a scanning look at the circle of anxious faces; he would have us think the importance of the plantation centred in his glowing black face.  There he stands-a measure in his hand-while another driver, with an air of less dignity, cries out, with a stentorian voice, the names of the heads of families, and the number of children belonging thereto.  Thus, one by one, the name being announced in muddled accents, they step forward, and receive their corn, or rice, as may be.  In pans and pails they receive it, pass it to the younger members of the family; with running and scampering, they carry the coarse allotment to their cabin with seeming cheerfulness.  Marston, esteemed a good master, always gives bacon, and to receive this the negroes will gather round the store a second time.  In this, the all-fascinating bacon is concealed, for which the children evince more concern; their eyes begin to shine brighter, their watchfulness becomes more intent.  Presently a negro begins to withdraw the meat, and as he commences action the jargon gets louder, until we are deafened, and would fain move beyond it.  Just then, the important driver, with hand extended, commands,-"Order!” at the very top of his loud voice.  All is again still; the man returns to his duty.  The meat is somewhat oily and rancid, but Balam cuts it as if it were choice and scarce.  Another driver weighs it in a pair of scales he holds in his hands; while still another, cutting the same as before, throws it upon some chaff at the door, as if it were a bone thrown to a hungry dog.  How humbly the recipient picks it up and carries it to his or her cabin!  Not unfrequently the young “imps” will scramble for it, string it upon skewers, and with great nonchalance throw it over their shoulders, and walk off.  If it bathe their backs with grease so much more the comfort.  Those little necessaries which add so much to the negro’s comfort, and of which he is so fond, must be purchased with the result of his extra energy.  Even this allowance may serve the boasted hospitality; but the impression that there is a pennyworth of generosity for every pound of parsimony, forces itself upon us.  On his little spot, by moonlight or starlight, the negro must cultivate for himself, that his family may enjoy a few of those fruits of which master has many.  How miserable is the man without a spark of generosity in his soul; and how much more miserable the man who will not return good for good’s worth!  To the negro, kindness is a mite inspiring the impulses of a simple heart, and bringing forth great good.

Let us again beg the reader to return with us to those conspicuous cottages near the court-yard, and in which we will find several of our characters.